


After

by Occula



Category: U2
Genre: Based on a True Story, Feels, M/M, Mild Angst, or at least featuring a real incident, thinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 12:30:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12864564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Occula/pseuds/Occula
Summary: Adam has chosen Susie, which means ending his relationship with Larry.





	After

**Author's Note:**

> Posted on LJ Sept. 28, 2005.

There was a time when we’d be first out of the venue, huddled together in one car, comfortable and anxious, speeding happily back to the hotel.

And before that, even, we’d be _last_ out of the venue, unable to wait to get from club to hotel before we had each other.

We had each other. We used to have each other. Adam and I.

Now there’s no hurry, after, for there’s nowhere to hurry to, nobody to hurry with. It was amicable, as much as such a thing could be, but what it really came down to was that Adam was a better man than I. A stronger, more moral man. I never decided; I never chose. But Adam did. … He chose her.

So now I loiter. Doesn’t matter anymore. Sometimes I try not to have much contact with him, after. Other times just a glimpse nurtures me. Him swathed in a big robe, as beautiful as ever. Him changing, his eternally sweet body with its new little pudge. He might be surprised to learn how sentimental I am about his body, how much I’d looked forward to experiencing it as we began to age, how much I’d like to curl up with him now as he begins, ever so gradually, to soften.

This night was a bathrobe night, and he looked utterly embraceable, although with his short hair he never looks mussed. After I saw him in the corridor, and after he’d gone, I confess to lingering in the shower, thinking of him. At first I pretend he’s there with me. Then I remain, trying to steam him from my pores. I’m certain he doesn’t know I miss him like this, torture myself like this. If he knew, he’d try to stop it somehow, even if talking about it made a worse mess. But I can tell by how happy he is that I’ve been successful in keeping my secret.

The longer it takes me to get back to my personal, private, empty room, the better; the more time I spend in that too-large, too-lonely bed, the less I like it. So I surprise some fans hanging about at the gate. At this hour, they deserve it. I smile and nod and try to make sure they each get a little something. Their voices wash over me, somehow awed by something so little as my presence: “ _God ... a picture? flash? ... holy grail ... my camera ... pen? ... thank you._ ”

They’re happy, and they’ve been respectful. Even their hands, inevitably on me, were non-intrusive. Good. I don’t exactly live for such encounters, but it’s nice to please the devout sometimes. They wave and clutch at each other as I ride away.

And that’s it; I’ve stalled as long as I easily can. I prefer not to go out drinking, particularly not alone. If I must drink, I’ll have a solitary one in the quiet of my room. That’ll be much later, probably after I’ve tried and failed to sleep.

The odd part is that I don’t resent him for what’s happened. I wish him happiness, and I’m pleased that he’s found it. I have unresolved dreams, I have unmet wishes, but in the end, I’m the weaker one; any pain from this, I’ll gladly bear alone. It’s perhaps the last gift – the last gift of our “relationship” – that I can give him.

I give it as willingly as I can. I give it because I love him still.

**Author's Note:**

> A small group of us waiting around outside the United Center in Chicago were pleasantly surprised by Larry after a Vertigo show, and that's how he came to be the first band member I met in person. He was really gracious to us all.


End file.
